Life

My Finish Line Road: When "One Day" Becomes Today

What happens when a self-professed "family cheerleader" steps it up with a trip to a Southern start line.

by Allison Pattillo

For years, completing an IRONMAN race was a vague, "one day" concept for me. After completing a handful of IRONMAN 70.3’s with my husband, he switched to the real deal, and I became the family cheerleader. I put off discussions by saying that if I did one it would be when I was over 40. There was nothing scientific about my choice—I simply thought that was far enough in the future that I wouldn’t have to give it another thought.

And I didn’t, until just before my 43rd birthday. As it turns out, all cheering and no racing makes me grouchy. I had been logging long running miles and spending time in the pool. Most surprisingly, I was no longer bored (OK, maybe just a little) on long bike rides, and had even come to appreciate the meditative qualities of spinning on the trainer. So, as a birthday present to myself last year, I signed up for IRONMAN Louisville. The euphoria from clicking the registration button quickly sent me into a nervous sweat, and I called my coach, frantic.

A strict training regimen makes me as contrary as the aforementioned lack of racing, so we decided on a non-traditional approach. The plan was for me to achieve IRONMAN fitness through running races (a half marathon, marathon, 55K and IRONMAN 70.3), long rides (including a "fun" century) and swimming. To establish a base and reduce the likelihood of hurting myself, the pool became my second home. Two- and three-mile swims were the norm, as were two-hour pool running sessions—I’m certain I grew gills.

Drinking champagne with my feet up, calling and texting friends, made for one of the headiest post-race highs I’ve experienced.

Having several goal races throughout the season was supposed to lessen the oh-my-gawd-I’m-doing-an-IRONMAN pressure. And it worked. By the time I was en route to Louisville, I had exhausted most of my typical pre-race mental craziness—no small feat, I can promise you. Thankfully so, because walking into the pre-race expo was akin to opening the door on an uber-caffeinated, exercise-addicts anonymous, compression-sock convention. I mean, how many pieces of wicked cool gear can one person wear? Despite the blatant reminders of what lay ahead, my personal bubble of denial was a lovely place to be. Later that night, I may have been the only competitor sampling bourbon (just sips) in the hotel bar—I was in Kentucky, it was a must!

Transition set-up was a breeze, and having my very own, incredibly patient volunteer to make sure all was exactly as it should be made me tear up. She calmly answered all of my questions, helped me solidify the game plan for T1 and T2 and waited while I triple (and quadruple) checked my bags.

Walking slowly through early-morning darkness to the race start reminded me of a zombie movie, with bananas and bagels instead of bodies. I was grateful to have a friend along for company, the cheerful volunteers, and the sun rise—evidently, in my pre-race delusion, I'd forgotten about that simple, daily given. Who says triathletes become self-centered before a big race?

As for the race itself, here’s a stream of consciousness recap I wrote afterwards:

Stress-free start and amazing swim—seriously, I was smiling. Good ride. Roads were a little bumpy in spots and the overall riding novelty wore off by mile 80 or so. Can’t say exactly because my computer bounced off and went skittering across the road around mile 12. It wasn’t my favorite, so I didn't bother to retrieve it. Ditto with my water bottle—no clue how that was even possible—but it was time for an upgrade. Transition sunscreen volunteers—brilliant! I think I fell in love for a minute. The start of the run was jungle hot, and I was at the "this-sucks-why-don’t-I-have-a-different-hobby" stage. Managed to recover on the go, was bolstered by seeing two friends on the course and thoroughly enjoyed the run—all the more so once I realized I was going to finish. Crossed in 13:45 and sub-14 was my goal. I’m an IRONMAN!

Sitting in bed drinking champagne with my feet up, calling and texting friends, and sharing stories with my on-the-ground cheerleader made for one of the headiest post-race highs I’ve experienced. Even better was realizing that my training approach had worked. Sure, I could focus more, try harder and longer, but for me, this journey is about personal accomplishment and having fun. My training was a blast—not a chore to be endured—and helped me keep things in perspective.

It’s undeniable that completing an IRONMAN race is a huge challenge. But it’s a challenge that close to 100,000 people accomplished in 2013. This means that with smart training and reasonable goals, it’s attainable. I, for one, cannot wait to toe the line again.

Time to get back to the pool to find my gills.

Alison Pattillo is a freelance writer living in Aspen, Colorado. She is currently deciding on her second IRONMAN race.